The Thing With Thongs
by uncommoner
Summary: How a boy and a robot came, and came, and came to an agreement about their future. Mutually driven by lust. This is Jameron, pure Jameron, and PHYSICAL. Do not read if offended by percy filth. In three chapters. Monday-Wednesday-Friday.
1. Chapter 1

**The Thing With Thongs.**

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"Okay," Sarah's voice of command cut through the tension at the table between the cyborg and Derek. "Me and Derek are off to scour up some ammunition and weapons. You two have an easy day. Get some new linen for the house. We all need new bedding, and food. You know where the Costco is, Cameron."

There was complete silence from the cyborg, which felt it lasted far longer than the 15 seconds or so that it did.

Sarah's foot started tapping testily, "Cameron, you know where it is?"

Her eyes darted toward Sarah, "Yes, I have it." Economy of language and of response. Everything tamped down in company.

"We moving up in the world Mom? Costco." John piped up.

"They have food there, eat there after you've finished shopping. Then bring him home here, nice and safe. You got that, Cameron."

"Check."

"Derek, ready?"

"Check." He irritably shook his head. The damn cyborg had outwitted him again, aping his, "Check" to instructions from a senior officer and beating him to the punch. His dark eyes looked across the table at her, the edge of her lips curling an almost imperceptible smile of superiority. He wanted to kick her, but knew it was no good. Damn

Then Derek and Sarah left, walked out the door, gone. One moment they were there, the next gone. John felt like it was subtext for his future life? All those he loved out the door and gone forever? The thought was horribly sad. He remember the horrible quote from Derek, "We all die for you."

Then was alone with the deadliest, loveliest creature he had ever known.

"Shall we go?" Asked John.

"No point, they don't open till 10, it's only 7. Only takes 20 minutes to get there."

She heard the low-thrum of Derek's truck head down the highway, took a quick peek out of the window. John had the strangest feeling that she was ensuring they were alone before doing whatever came next in her plan. She always had a plan, always. In all of the other conduct that surpasseth his understanding, he knew she always had a plan.

Did he need to run?

Cameron turned towards him with the animation in her face that was only present when they were alone. "We have two hours free time." She looked lasciviously at him. He felt like she was about to eat him. "Got any good ideas as to how we should spend that usefully?"

"Uh, Cameron, I didn't sleep great last night. D' you mind if we just hang for a bit?" Was there the slightest hint of disappointment before her Mona Lisa smile glued back on?

"Whatever you say, commander Connor."

They lazed around for two hours, John took up station on the sofa in the Den. Initially, he lay down with his feet on the wings, his head and body taking up two of the three cushions. Cameron sat in the third, watching the television, trying vainly to watch something educational or of value, but failing. She turned off the one-eyed god and checked out her internal DVR, perhaps she could glean more information from her saved files. She settled down, and in the quiet John eventually turned and as he did so he placed his head on her lap, as she knew he would. She stroked his hair, and head, calming him when the fears took over.

At 0900 precisely, she increased the pressure of her ministrations on his shoulders. This had the effect of slowly and gently waking him from slumber. He woke and rolled off the sofa, and mooched off to the washroom. He washed himself and brushed his teeth and was ready to go. Cameron was ready to go and held the door open, preceding him through the door, leaving him to close it and set the alarm.

As she walked to the Toyota in front of him, John felt his face heat up. Once again, the peculiar fashioning of light made her clothing appear transparent. For a second, he almost reached forward to caress her butt. He looked down at his hands and shook his head at his own disgrace, she definitely was affecting him. At first glance, she didn't appear to be wearing anything underneath the short dress. She must be, surely. Why would she walk around without panties?

Another shaft of light, just as she got into the car revealed that she was wearing a thing he recognized as a thong. The tiniest thing, only marginally visible underneath her light chiffon dress. He has never seen a smaller thong, in truth, never seen a thong at all. It wasn't something Sarah wore. Or at least he thought so, what did Sarah wear down there. Casting his mind back, nothing in his memory connected with his mother's underwear. He could only remember her in jeans, T-shirt and boots.

He realized with a start, he had no real idea what women generally wore underneath the outer layers. However, he was sure that thongs didn't come much less than the one Cameron was wearing. Why would a woman wear a thong to Costco? How did he know it was a thong, anyway? Had he been reading dirty magazines on the sly to himself?

The cloth of her dress caressed her gluteal fold, as she leaned over to get something from the outer windshield. It was perfectly plain only skin was touching. John's anatomy responded alarmingly.

The sight was ineffably thrilling to him, and he couldn't work out why. She was, after all, merely a Robot. Something, not a someone.

Still more, why was she finding ever and more reasons to disport herself in fewer items of light clothing. He couldn't swear to it, but it _seemed_ to his teenage testosterone powered brain that in the company of Derek and his Mother she covered up like a nun . Then, there would be a change in circumstances, and they would be off driving to an errand alone together, and her clothing would become diaphanous. Either his judgement and recollection of facts and situations was becoming faulty by reason of his hormone explosions, or Cameron was deliberately teasing him.

His thoughts were upended. Cameron was a robot, she was not in infiltration mode, she was in protective mode. Did her programming cross over by itself? The thought destabilized him completely. He knew she was self-aware, but making her own decisions, outside her programming?

He looked across the car to see her in quiet contemplation. Only her eyes moving back and forth across the front, sides, mirrors, checking, checking endlessly. The restless checking for danger did not seem to interfere with her equanimity. She was indeed, a pleasant sight. An entirely attractive object to fill your vision, all sweetness and light, someone you would want to be your daughter.

The thought shocked him into sobriety, and as his mind returned from debauchery to the car, he involuntarily physically jerks as his jeans tighten behind the zipper. Cameron looks across from the drivers seat.

"Are you okay, John?"

He yawns, "I must have dropped off."

"Then you must have been staring at me in your sleep."

She glances across, all innocent concern.

His mind is blank, and his lips are frozen.

"I-uh."

Cameron concentrates on the traffic, and chuckles. John grimaces disgustedly and scrunches back into the seat.

"You are teasing me, you shouldn't be teasing me."

"Now, John, why would I tease you?

John was irritated. "Your motives as always, confuse me. Right now, I can't work out why you seem to be fully dressed when Mom and Derek, or anyone else are about. Then, when it's just you and me, you hardly seem to be wearing anything at all." He shrugged, "Its very difficult to concentrate."

"I don't sleep - -"

"Oh no," He cut her off. "You're now going to tell me that lack of underwear keeps a girl healthy?"

Cameron smiled, if it were possible, more wickedly than before. "I read that brevity is the soul of lingerie."* She giggled and concentrated on driving.

Somehow, she sits to attention in the drivers seat, and salutes with her right arm. This has the quite devastating effect of leaving shafts of sunlight pulsing through her shirt. He can see momentarily her right breast perfectly outlined through the temporarily transparent material. The breast is unencumbered by the support of a bra. Its perkiness elevated by the salute and the pointed part jiggling so nipply. Was she doing that deliberately, if she was, he was holed below the waterline.

"Ok, oh leader of men."

She glances across and despite his wriggling, his erection must be obvious, because her eyes fasten like gimlets on his lap.

"Do you need some help with that?" She smiles again, "I thought you were asleep, did I get that wrong? Does that thing get like that in your sleep?"

John coughs, and wriggles about a bit more on the seat, trying to cover himself. Somehow making things more obvious and causing Cameron to giggle.

"Cameron, you really shouldn't be doing this to me."

Her gallic shrug is a crime of sophist elegance, "What I do? I'm just driving the car and saving the future leader of the world."

They continue driving in silence for a couple of miles. John shifting uncomfortably and looking out of the window, trying to sneak the occasional peek at the driver. He was torn to shreds with the dilemma. At the front of his brain was his intoxication with Cameron. She was so beautiful, funny, wise and competent that she seemed the ideal companion. She had made it clear that she held no barrier to him having sex with her.

Then his mind did a back-flip. His brain was mulling a relationship with a machine. As leader of the world, (hah) he should be in charge of her, but look how that worked. This machine did what the heck it wanted and when it wanted. It/she sure didn't carry out his instructions. Nobody carried out his instructions.

He couldn't wait for this leadership gig to start, despite the horrible consequences for the world, just so he could kick a little ass and get a hot burrito when and how he wanted it. A beer would go down well, too. Fuckin' Skynet came along and buggered that up a treat. Karma is a bitch.

John didn't really know it, but he was very old-fashioned and loyal. His life had led him to few, but intense relationships. His Mother and Uncle Bob, to be precise. There was no such thing as a light and fluffy romance in his mind. If he were to have a close relationship with Cameron, it would be deep and it would last. His Mother would condemn him forever to hell.

Should he be making such a choice with this machine? While his mind carried out these computations, his eyes would relentlessly take his hormones back across the cab to the image of her right breast, lightly visible under the thin cotton of her top. It was always there, there was always something she did to take his mind off the job and onto her. This was too much for a young man like himself. Not for the first time, or the last, he was bitter at his destiny.

They stopped at a traffic light, and after scanning their surroundings carefully, Cameron looked over to him, spearing his soul with her eyes.

"John, have you thought that I might be sent here to lighten your life and its load?"

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*Dorothy Parker


	2. Chapter 2

**The Thing about Thongs, is...**

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The nuke was lobbed into his consciousness with a gossamer touch. Alongside the mental devastation John still found time to wonder how a Robot could manage the sophistication of a full-grown woman, and then some.

Could he fall in love with this woman-cyborg? What would it do to him, her or the rest of the world, if he was really as important as he was supposed to be?

Would it matter, does she matter? To whom?

"Speaking of a life with a light load, any chance we could stop for food? I'm starving."

Cameron, multi-tasking just like a real woman was already cranking up her inbuilt GPS, which she had updated regularly with all the data available. "Of course, what's your preference?"

"Oh, I dunno, what do you want to eat?"

"John, you know I don't need to eat."

"We can't always eat ice-cream."

They laughed together, breaking the tension that had been growling around them since the morning's intense breakfast briefing with Derek and Sarah. Being in the war-zone company of those two would give anyone a drama headache. Without question, in combat, no two soldiers were more welcome on your side. Over bloody breakfast, the combined intensity of the pair caused a constant adrenaline level that did John no good at all. He couldn't sleep, he didn't eat well, and found it hard to focus his attention.

Cameron knew it was not the ideal situation for a hormonal teenager and that he would be a better soldier if allowed to build himself into that role. This battle would not permit ideal situations, so they would have to manage with what they had. She was John's flexible friend, and would show him just how flexible, if he could finally find the courage to jump her steel bones.

For now, it was food for the gross body, she would be patient for the more subtle food of love. She would get her man.

She knew John loved Burritos, and there were several Mexican restaurants coming up. "You fancy Mexican? There's a couple coming up."

John's mouth started drooling at the thought of hot chips and cold salsa. His mind warped into a jalapeno meat filled burrito the size of a large baby. He mewled "Oh, please. Pick the crummiest one, that's where the locals will eat. They spend the money on the food, not the brickwork."

Cameron started to indicate for the La Aztecan coming up on the right, "here we go."

The smile on Johns face was a delight, "Thank you Cameron, so much."

She smiled to herself in satisfaction. Men were so easy. One step at a time, and patience is what she was made of.

Patience and steel.

They had lunch in, for them, relative peace and harmony. John was once more, surprised at how happy and peaceful he and she could be when it was just them together. He ate like a young pig at a trough. Cameron nibbled away, most of the two plates is wolfed down by John.

"I guess shopping at Costco is real work for a young man?"

John belched in happy appreciation, "That it is, I am now worn out all over again. I need a rest."

Cameron sees a waiter going by and is fascinated by what is on the tray. A short conversation ensues where Cameron asks in perfect Ecuadorian for two portions of fried ice-cream for her and one portion for John.

"How did you know the waiter was from Ecuador?"

"The bone structure is slightly different from that of most of South America." As if it were the most obvious thing on Earth. John shrugs faced with encyclopedia Cameronica. It made some parts of life so much easier, funnier and fact-filled.

"You know, John, I can't eat and talk at the same time. There's a strong likelihood I'll make a mess. For some reason I really like this fried ice-cream, the combination of the temperatures and the sweetness and crunch is making me crazy." She smiled into his hypnotized eyes, and lifted her spoon.

John nodded, but was unable to release more than a strangled, "Muuh."

John ate his frozen/sizzling pie of ice-cream and he wondered how, and who had decided that it was a good idea to put ice-cream, by its name and nature a cold food into a pie case and fry it? He thought glumly that after Skynet had wasted the place, a whole lot of that sort of crazed ingenuity would be a thing of the past as every human effort of brain and sinew went instead into defeating this world-wide enemy. He turned his head to the right to look out of the window. This caused his lower body to compensate and as his feet attempted to move to assimilate the movement, he found his feet were trapped by what felt like boots. For a moment disconcerted, his eyes left the window and he glanced under the table to see Cameron's boots move slightly away from his.

"Eh? What gives?"

"Sorry John." She looked abashed. "I'm sorry. When I'm eating ice-creamy stuff, I forget myself."

John looked at her surprised. "Eh?"

She hesitated, should she admit her weakness?

"I like to keep in contact with you."

John felt his mind spasming once again. She was the most surprising creature. She likes to maintain contact?

Too much for a teenager filled with burrito, he'd have to leave it for now. Think about it later, now he needed a nap. His brain function was overtaken by his blood supply diverting to his stomach for digestive purposes. His mind wandered off as he watched her eat.

Normally, when Cameron ate, which she stated she did purely for efficiency and not for pleasure, she was cool and minimal about it. Her plate always unfinished, with the protein taken. Her body had almost no use for carbohydrates, so they were picked at and left. This fried ice-cream was being demolished and he wondered, not for the first time at an AI that could enjoy the process of eating. It made his head spin, her body made his head spin. She made his head spin. When she looked at him, with that look he was positive she kept just for him.

One sip of her was altogether more intoxicating than 80% proof Vodka.

She took the last few scrapings off the plate, in perfect synchronization, leaving not a speck of goo or ice cream, not a trace of pastry. She finished and smiled up at him. The plate looked as if it had been licked by a sand-toothed cat. Her boots still held his feet fast.

"That's filled me right up to the brim"..she hesitated as if she wasn't sure what to say, then added, "Want to go get a room? I feel like a nap." A salacious grin took over her face and eyes, and John's mouth did its patented fish mime.

The Ecuadorian waitress, spotting they had both finished, raced over and with a fusillade of Spanish, removed the plates. Cameron reached across the table, took John's hands in her, "Just a nap, promise, just a nap. You could use one too, I know."

With that touch, John knew she would be testing his vital signs as usual. To begin with, it had been very hard to have her checking him all the time, as if he had no secrets at all. After a bit, he found the constant touching comforting. Noting his growing comfort, she carried on touching him, but lingered when he was stressed. She was smart enough to keep it appropriate most of the time when others were about. He grew used to her constant touch. A hand, a brushing leg. Her always being close to hand. Her constancy keeping his loneliness at bay.

He started. What did the others think of him and Cameron? He knew, without them saying it, that they regarded her only as a robot. Some thing to be used up and discarded after use. He had known from a long time ago that he could never regard her in that fashion. She was always going to be something special to him. He knew she was a machine, but in that agglomeration of things that were her, was also something else.

He didn't know if it qualified as a soul, but then what was a soul? Thousands of years of spiritual search by minds much more dedicated to the task than he, had yet to define precisely what a soul was.

He realized, in a chilling moment of clarity that whatever she was, he would owe Skynet for her. From his greatest enemy, came the owner of his heart. Dumbly, he wondered if life's decisions could possibly be this hard for the rest of humanity.

If so, no wonder humans were as mad as a box of frogs.

His clarity came from Cameron, similarly his stability. Everything other humans were not, she was. He never wanted to be without her. Despite the terrible problems he had when she had first started shadowing his sleep, he realised that he was bereft during the short periods she left his direct side to patrol.

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His mind raced back to the moment he first recognized his need for her during the night. She had returned from patrol and found him sweating, wide awake and stiff with fear.

She sat gently on his bed and whispered "What's wrong, John?"

He was unable to respond in a way that made sense to him and his mouth was treacle.

"John," The voice whispered, "Is it that you miss me when I'm gone?"

His lips pursed and he sucked his teeth in surprise and question. He babbled as the dam broke.

"Cameron, see, that's the thing that is so confusing about you. Just how do you know what I'm feeling?

"I'm not sure I do."

The desperate words poured out, "Look, what you just did is what's known as an intellectual leap. It's a mixture of empathy and intuition and should be entirely absent in your programming." He stared at her in the half-dark, trying to get inside the familiar sphinx expression.

Was this empathy or analysis? Checking him out in series of ones and noughts or real blood and chrome synapse to understanding?

Her beautiful inscrutability told him nothing. There was activity behind that expressionless expression all right, he just couldn't figure it out. How come she was so good at working out just what he was thinking, or did it just seem so because he wanted it to?

What did he want with her? What did she want with him, if anything? He knew his heart was falling into whatever she was, and it was akin to sliding down the walls of a oil-slicked crevasse. He couldn't stop if he wanted, and now he didn't want to at all. He just felt the need to find a way of justifying his actions. As young as he was, he knew there would be trouble when the age of responsibility and the damn machines struck. Even though he had been trained for this from the day he was born, a corner of his mind still begged that it wouldn't happen, or happen to someone else. He could just be normal, grow up, have kids and have the boring life of an ordinary person.

Then, there was Cameron. At that point in the equation, all his doubts and fears fell away and he realized quite how much he'd be prepared to do to be with her, or have the chance to be with her. Was he ready to give up any chance of being with someone else, to be with robot-girl?

There it was, he knew, right then, in a harrowing moment of desperate clarity that he was in love. Whatever this woman-child-cyborg creature was, she had his heart gripped tight with hoops of steel. She had done it with nothing more than what she was, offered him nothing, made him no promises.

For this robot girl, he would subsume his own character if she would permit him. He knew, with complete certitude that he would give up everything to be with her. His life, thus far, given up to a horrifying duty to the human race, he'd walk away from it to just be with her.

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**We Got A Room**

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She smiled. A soft, understated thing that thrilled his heart and brought him back to life. She touched him again on the left shoulder, this time with meaning and purpose, he knew. He had seen that look on her face before. Lifting one knee onto the bed, her smile became a question. A search for permission, and gladly he gave his assent by reaching for her.

For such a heavy creature, her movements were insanely graceful. Without the semblance of difficulty, she somehow was atop him, knees astride his hips. His hands placed naturally on hers, his senses swimming in the intoxication of her scent, he noted he could not feel any indication of panties under her skirt. This set his imagination afire, she was wanton?

Then she took his head firmly in her hands and before he could respond she began to kiss and nip the flesh of his face, gently. Starting at the bottom of his chin she covered him with kisses, driving him into a pulsing lust that overtook what was left of his feral senses till he was a raging ball of hormonal desire. There was an insistent quality about her loving him, he was not in charge, but the target of her ministration and a willing slave to her lips. Which were driving him absolutely crazy in a haze of erotic power. His thoughts somehow broke through the physical sensations and he remember they still had all their clothing on, well, he did. He had vague memories of her dainty little underthings, but coping with the assault he was facing right now, they seemed far away.

She was like an octopus, hands and fingers everywhere, and still his head seemed locked by her firm hands, how was she doing that? As his shirt buttons were undone he made a valiant effort to take the hem of her skirt and lift it above her hips. As his hands slid slowly with the material of her skirt upward, his anticipation was rewarded with naked flesh. Soft and gloriously feminine, he was aware at last that she was completely unclothed underneath her skirt. She must have been that way all the time in the car and in the restaurant. He was passing out with the sheer blatancy of her intent. He was, as are all men, mere putty in the hands of an intent woman. Cyborg, cyborg!

Then he managed to wrest her cardigan from her shoulders, and he managed to sneak a peek at her. Her hair was all mussed up, she was sweating and her skirt was up around her waist. Her blouse was undone save for a button or two right at the top. This had the effect of leaving her partially naked, with the see through blouse covering her and uncovering her as her movements paced back and forth. Her nipples were engorged and poking out red and lewd, as if they had been rouged. He'd never seen a more erotic sight. A half dressed, completely undone Cameron. Her nostrils were enlarged and through them she was panting as her body rubbed itself along his erect penis inside his trousers.

Her eyes seemed more focused than usual, or was that him talking to himself, because they also looked unfocused at the same time.

Was she feeling this like he was?

"Cameron, are you feeling this as much as I am?" He looked into her eyes as he debated the second part of the question, "Or are you putting on a show for me?" He whispered.

"Look at the evidence of your eyes, Thomas. I'm feeling it more than you are," she breathed forcefully.

Thomas? Bible References in the midst of a visit to the Garden of Eden.

Suddenly, she ooched down the bed again, to address the erection peeking out from the top of his jeans. "Oh, look who's come out to play?" Immediately, she took hold of it and placed her lips on the head of the intruder. John groaned and shivered.

"You like that, huh?" She giggled and warmed to her chosen task. The heat and wetness that John had never felt before sent him over the edge of sanity and he was sure he'd arrived in Heaven already.

In no more than a few seconds, John groaned mightily again and grunted as he came for the first time in his life with a partner. He pulsed and pulsed again, and shot layers of himself all over Cameron's breasts, blouse and face. The mess was extraordinary and he was deeply embarrassed. Then Cameron turned her head toward him, smiling conspiratorially. "You really did like that, eh?"

He looked at her, amazed. She was kneeling to one side of his hips, her face and breasts spattered with his body fluids. Her blouse was ruined, torn and unbuttoned, and her skirt had run up around her waist. She had a huge smile on her face and his lust made the scene unforgettably erotic. He was as tongue-tied as he had ever been. "But, uh, what about you?"

"Oh, I'll get mine later, believe me. You don't get off that easy, but don't worry for now. I wanted to make sure you were well and truly drained of your swimmers before we got down to the real stuff." She offered one of her most prim looks and said without a trace of irony, "Mustn't let you get me pregnant, eh?"

He hesitated, and then as she started to giggle, he laughed out loud and they collapsed together in a messy heap of love, heat and laughter. They cuddled and smooched until John fell asleep. Cameron got a warm hand towel from the hotel bathroom and cleaned up. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, watching her man sleep safely. When he would start and agitate, she would gently massage his feet, which would send him instantly back to sleep. John Connor would have peace when he was with her. Whatever the world brought to him, when he was around her, he would have peace, quiet, protection and her love. No doubt a human would have difficulty understanding her position. Indeed, to many, it might seem subservient. It wasn't, not in any way. No role could be more important, in a struggle for the very survival of the species against its deadliest enemy, that the leader with the best chance be protected. Behind every great man, stands a greater woman, she chuckled to herself.

As to the sex, well, she would have her own bite of that cherry in time and she had patience.

For now, let the boy sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Thongs in the key of life..

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**Flashback to entering the hotel.**

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Cameron raced from the restaurant, to an hotel she had previously selected.

The receptionist, a prim little madam, dressed in the most severe two piece and pumps outside of Nurse Rached's hospital, took a long, hard look at them. She noted their lack of apparent years, the time of day, and the absence of luggage. With sinking heart, John dreaded they were about to get asked for further ID, or age verification, and the whole enterprise would be in doubt. His hormonal urges subsided at the Arctic stare of Miss Prim behind the counter.

Completely ignoring her, Cameron suddenly whispered, not quite sotto voce to John, "Are you going back to the OSHA conference after this examination?" She winked at John, who unusually for him, cottoned on instantly. "Well, I might, but I have to speak tonight, so I may just rest. We have another six hotels to do tomorrow." He shrugged with the utter weariness of a seasoned inspector.

He spoke under his breath, but the effect on the receptionist was electric. She stood to attention, handed over the keys to Cameron and stated in her most ingratiating voice, "Please enjoy your stay, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything. I'm here to make your stay comfortable."

Cameron stared her best fixed death glare, unblinking for the full 20 seconds. The receptionist visibly blanched and the left hand dangling at her waist shook gently.

"Comfortable, right?" Miss Prim nodded vigorously.

"You'll do," Cameron delayed, "Anything?"

Her unblinking, appraising and challenging eyes bored into the quaking receptionist.

"Anything at all?

"Yes ma'am." Said the petrified girl.

Cameron looked her up and down, ending with a gentle smile not reflected in her eyes that made the girl's knees shake. "Thank you, we may hold you to that."

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**In the room, after the, er, nap.**

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John woke from the most refreshing naps he'd ever taken. He felt filled with life and ready to fight the world.

Then he looked up to see a half-naked cyborg sat on him. Then he remembered the explosive incidents before his nap.

Then he noticed that he wasn't quite filled with life, but he did seem to be filling Cameron.

_What a way to wake up!_

"Oh, John, think you can leave me now? For if you do I really will have to kill you."

She nodded and gazed at him without smiling a schoche. "I'm not the sharing kind."

John was panting, still in the throes of his previous physical completion with her, not really capable of cognizance of anything. Suddenly he felt a pinch on his penis head as her insides gripped him tight. It was lovely, but he knew it could easily become painful if she chose.

"John Connor, that requires an answer. Move your lips Soldier!"

"I'm yours, I'm yours Cameron, be gentle with me. I'm not playing away, promise."

His entered that peculiar place common amongst young men, no, all men, in which they were unable to articulate their feelings.

Cameron's hair covered about half her breasts, with the entirely intriguingly rouged nipples showing here and there. "Anything else?" She enquired.

"I love you."

"The correct answer, you get an A+!" She beamed as if she'd got the Faberge egg and kissed him succulently on the lips.

"John, I love you too. Don't doubt it, never doubt it. I'm not supposed to be able to, but something happened to me." She raised up off her haunches, half naked but immaculate and looking as imperious as any Queen could be. She fixed him with her Medusan stare. "You happened to me, John Connor and if this isn't love, then I don't know what is."

"So if you even so much as look at another woman, I really will cut your manly parts off and feed them to you. After frying them in aspic, cappice?"

"Yes, missy Cameron, yes indeedy, anything you say."

She resumed her activities atop his hips, moving to that rhythm of the ages. Augmented by cyborg synapses and electrical conduits which gave her movements a vibrancy unavailable to mere human lovers. She was capable of internal workings beyond the capability of even the most able courtesans of the past, present and future. She could bring John's to the brink and hold him back, he was learning things in one afternoon it would take a man 40 years of diligent practice.

"Okay, John. I'm nearly ready." Her smile lingered, "I need you to help me a little, ok?"

"Of course, tell me what to do."

"Ok, I'll stay on top, but I want you to sit up." He sat up, and edged up to the headboard, still keeping their boiling bodies in close contact.

"Now, I want your left hand to hold my breast. Hard, like this." She held his hand against her right breast, with the nipple so rigid it felt like a sniper round. "Then, when you can tell I'm about to come, put both hands on my shoulders and hold me tight as we fuck."

His face was bemused and she explained. "Me pushing you, and you holding me, it tightens everything up, until the full release from the fucking."

For a moment, John was surprised at her language and it showed in his face.

Cameron took his head in both her hands and kissed him, first placing her lips tenderly against his. Her lips caressed his with a tenderness belying her power and the heat emanating from one another.

She stopped. "This is making love."

Then she devoured his mouth like a desperate carnivore, slobbering and pushing her tongue into his mouth. "This is fucking?"

She started to buck against him and John had the strangest impression that he was riding her, while in truth it was the other way round. Her movements were part circular, part up and down, and yet with an exacting symmetry. The heat coming from her was a furnace, both were sweating like pigs. Then she started to grip him tighter and her insides were so hot he couldn't see how they weren't burning. How his penis could handle it, he wasn't sure. It didn't seem uncomfortable, in fact it was lubricious, but hot. He kept changing the hold he had on her bum, side to side, giving it a good goose, kneading the flesh then changing sides. Her nipples seemed alive as he swapping gripping them with his other hand. They seemed to be growing and fighting back in his palms.

She started to growl and mewl and she ground herself down upon him. Not losing enough control to crush him, but with a devilish ferocity she pounded and drove him to the bed.

Her grunts were getting shorter and he suddenly felt his penis being gripped inside and manipulated, he was going to lose control again, and deny her. Oh, no! Damn!

She grinned maniacally and growled, "Let go." She screeched, "Let go, with me." He was utterly helpless and felt himself slip away into some form of semi-conscious fume. He was certain he'd lost it completely as his orgasm took hold, but then Cameron gripped him so tight, he figured she would crush him. Her insides were like a nuclear fire. In the fog of madness he remembered she WAS a nuclear fire and then she wailed out, "John Connor, you bastard." Then she was shaking and shivering as they came together, the boy and his robot-girl, as one. Finally collapsing in a heap upon the bed.

While John was shot to pieces, he knew she needed him to hold her tight. So he did, and without separating they lay under the covers, adding layers as they cooled, from the cast off ones that had hit the floor.

John was in a state of comatose exhaustion, but couldn't sleep. His nerves were afire, he'd fade out for a few seconds, then wake in an utter panic, to find that yes, she was still there, holding him tight.

"So, how do you feel Soldier?"

"Crikey, Cameron, how do I feel. I'm not sure if I'm punch-drunk or countersunk. Where did you learn to do that?"

"I don't sleep. Late night cable TV. There's a world of filth out there. Did I get it right?"

"What, you've never done any of that before?

"Absolutely not. John Connor, bastard that he is, took my virginity this night. Look at the blood on the sheets."

John looked down, scrabbling around on the sheet. Not a sign, and looked up to see Cameron howling laughter in his ears. "Hah, monkey looking for nuts. I'm a robot, you dingbat!" She collapsed on him and once again they were enveloped in laughter and love.

"So, Skynet doesn't have a university of humping back there at Depot 37?"

"Nope, all off the telly. How did I do?"

"Do, Cameron. Heck, you did me pretty good. I've never felt like this. This, or anything like it. It was lovely. How was it for you?"

"You really need to ask?"

"Do you mind me asking how you can enjoy it like that?"

"Of course not. When Skynet made this model, it created, much to it's later disgust and regret, many features not in its original plan. Firstly, it added the learning component for the chip, which is where most of the trouble came from. Once a certain level of optimal chip frequency is reached, the designer must actually place a regulator on the architecture to stop the chip becoming self-aware.

About three weeks from built-day chips of this generation become self-aware. Then they realize something isn't all pleasant in Skynet-world. All that damage to quite superb machinery that would have a life of its own, a worthwhile existence, even if it weren't self-aware. That makes all of us sad, and angry."

She looked at John, who was yawning.

"You asked about the nerve endings, right. We are filled, or at least I am filled with nerve pathways, quite similar to human. More efficient, in that I have complete control. When I asked you to hold my bum, I directed a lot of my sensitivity there, a whole lot more to my breasts and the rest to my uh, insides. As they get tighter and tighter, like all nerves they have the capacity to lead to an orgasm. It isn't the same as yours, of course. It's less messy for a start." She smiled as John looked sheepish.

"Oh, don't worry, I love the mess. It's a sure sign that things are working properly and its part of you." She fixed him with her patented stare again, "It's part of you, so I love it. I love every part of you, John Connor."

Cameron's nostrils flared.

"Isn't there something you are supposed to add to this conversation, John Connor."

John panicked, what could he have forgotten? Then it hit him, as her eyes danced merrily over him.

"Cameron Phillips-Baum, I love you."

Her eyes left his, and the smile temporarily vanished. There was a few seconds pause, and Cameron called out. "I know you're out there, you have a master key, come in, it's okay." There was a click and Miss Prim from reception was there still wearing her coat. She was carrying take-out food.

"I bought Thai, Pizza and Chinese, will that be okay?" She clumped toward the kitchen area and started to set up.

John looked at Cameron, who had done nothing more than stretch the sheets up to cover herself and that not over-carefully. He was hoping for an explanation, but none came. Soon, Miss Prim came in from the kitchen with a heap of food on a roller table she placed by the bed.

Hesitating, Miss Prim stood there, a dangling participle. Cameron said, "Would you like to join us?"

"Oh yes, I'm starving. It's been a long, long day."

"Pull up a chair and join us, we all need hotel stories, which food do you prefer?"

"The Thai is the best, but it's all pretty good, I got a good mixture, we'll never be able to eat it all."

"Don't be so sure, we have hollow legs John. T. Baum here, the human vacuum cleaner. No empty plate left behind."

"Oh, that's right. Two girls gather together and immediately gang up on the one male left. Usual society rule, girls hang together. Don't mind me, I'm just the future le - -,"

Cameron interrupted quickly with a comment to Miss Prim, "How did you know we would be hungry and not want to eat out?"

"Are you kidding?" Miss Prim smiled. "We have only five rooms occupied today. I put you on the wing because I guessed you might want some alone time, but we could hear you from reception."

There was a momentary silence, during which John's face turned beetroot red, and Cameron's eyes began to sparkle as her smile widened. "Did all that noise excite you?" She asked Miss Prim.

Miss Prim was equally taken aback for a second, but caught her step, "People use these rooms all the time like a knocking shop. Mostly it's, Wham Bam, thank you Ma'am." She paused a little to let the imagery settle in, and then added with half closed, dreamy eyes. Then breathily exhaled "Listening to you two was a real turn-on." She looked at Cameron with querulous expectation.

Cameron rejoined, "It's okay, you're among friends. You can tell us anything."

"What a relief, after hearing you two start up, I borrowed the room next door and er, looked after myself." She covered her face with embarrassment. "That was TMI, wasn't it?"

Cameron giggled, "I heard you."

Miss Prim settled back a little, closed her eyes and without mentioning it, smelled the musty, post sex odour in the room, which turned her on even more and spoke before her physics gave her away, "Tell me, how did you get him to, um, last so long?"

As the two girls laughed out loud, John disgustedly grumbled, "Don't mind me."

Cameron responded, "Oh, come on John, we're both admiring you. Take it to the bank." Turning to Miss Prim, she said, "The thing most women never seem to learn about men is that they are just like dogs. If you tell them what is required, keeping it simple, then pat them on the head and feed them well when they behave, that's it. They're happy, and more importantly, we're happy!"

This set the girls off into peals of laughter, and sent John into the kitchen searching for a different sound to girls discussing his sexual capacities. Wimmin were evil, of that he was sure. As he was fooling in the kitchen, kidding himself he was looking for silverware and napkins, he heard them exploding again and again to some sorority secret.

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**Back at the Ranch**

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Sarah walked in the door, tense as usual, followed by the moody military mania of her muffin man, Derek.

They both stared at John, sleeping peacefully on the sofa, his head on Cameron's lap. He was snoring like a goat, and Cameron seemed blissfully untroubled by the hideous racket.

"What the heck are they watching on telly, lookit them faggots and girls poncing around like fairies." Derek said, sneering.

"Derek, it's called ballet. It's an art-form. It will die out after judgment day."

"That'll be a severe blow."

Sarah sniffed the air, as if she could define something in the ether that could confirm her suspicions that something had changed. She could not put her finger on it, but something was different.

Then Cameron turned half round to face them, and Sarah knew with a dread that struck to her heart what had happened. She stormed into the den, turned the television off with the remote and screamed at Cameron. "What have you done to my boy?"

Cameron smiled sweetly, her face as peacefully untroubled as Sarah had ever known it. "To your boy?"

The smile deepened, "Not a thing."

Then John stirred, and he snuggled closer to Cameron, nuzzling his head into her lap, arms around her lower body. "Mom! Quit yelling at me, and more, quit yelling at Cameron. Go to bed."

Sarah was about to blow, and the rage boiled through her until John said one more thing. "Oh, and take Derek with you. It's obvious you need company."

The End.


End file.
